The Call of Adventure
by HunterAzrael
Summary: The call of adventure is a guiding force in the lives of many. Follow the Dragonborn's travels as he seeks to aid Skyrim in the race against time to defeat Alduin and save the world from destruction at the end of his talons. Rated T-M for future content


Chapter 1 – Welcome to Skyrim.

Hey ladies and gents. This is my first foray into the Elder Scrolls realm of fanfics. I've been reading DualKatanas' current project Blood and Steel, and decided to try my hand at a Skyrim fanfic.

I hope the quality of writing, and the story I tell, is intriguing enough for you. A warning to start; while the main character may at first seem overpowered, 'hacked' or otherwise imbalanced, trust that there is a reason for this, and he won't just up and start taking down dragons and wiping out armies singlehandedly.

That said, enjoy the show.

Disclaimer: I do not, and will not, at any point in my life, own any of the copyrights that are owned by Bethesda Softworks. Consider this my one and only disclaimer. Seriously. I don't work for Bethesda, no matter how much I wish I did, the closest I'll come to 'owning' skyrim, is the disc I bought for my PC.

* * *

_My name; is Drathys Aren. I was born in the 407th year of the 3rd era, 20 years before the Curse of the Blight. My earliest memories are of the streets of Vivec, stealing to survive, and later, following in my adopted grandfather's footsteps. Watching and learning as he taught me his trade. Eno Hlaalu was a great mer. A truly great mer. A staunch advocate of justice; honourable, intelligent – and he taught me some of the most important lessons of my long, long life. In my tenth year of life, he took me under his wing. And in the ten following years, I rose to unprecedented heights. Warlock in the Mage's Guild. Defender in the Fighter's Guild. Captain in the Thieves' Guild, and Exalted-Master of the Morag Tong - Eno Hlaalu's right-hand mer. I was only 20. Destined for great things, according to the few eyes tracking my progress._

_In the 6 years following, the final years of the 3rd era, grandfather sent me to Cyrodiil to decipher the workings of the Dark Brotherhood, and seek an opening for the Morag Tong outside of Morrowind. I used my various positions within the three Guilds as a combined alibi for my presence in Cyrodiil. During the Oblivion Crisis, I watched and waited. I did my part, of course, made a name for myself as a talented spellsword and rogue; I progressed even further within Cyrodiil's guilds - earned my Wizard title within the Mage's Guild, attained Guardian status with the Fighter's Guild, and attained the position of Shadowfoot within the Thieves' Guild. I was only 26. At the dawn of the 4th era, I returned to Vivec to visit Grandfather, and relay to him my progress with observing the Dark Brotherhood. That was the last I ever saw him. 4 years after my return to Cyrodiil, the Ministry of Truth collapsed, and Red Mountain erupted, costing me the only family I'd ever truly known. With a heavy heart, I set about my life in Cyrodiil._

_Over 16 years, I slowly spread my influence; making new friends and contacts, a network of informants, spies, scouts, eyes and ears in every city of the province, and I discovered the Warlord, Titus Mede. I approached him, gained his confidence, and joined his ranks as a senior logistics, intelligence and combat training officer. I enjoyed the following 13 years, truly, and made many close allies and friends. My service in Mede's Imperial Legion was noteworthy, and I received accolades and praise worthy of my efforts. However, I 'retired' in 4E 29, after hearing whispers of the reformation of the Aldmeri Dominion. I was 55. It is at this point that I started my 172 year sojourn of Tamriel. I have visited, lived and worked in every single city, town and village across the Blackmarsh, High Rock, Orsinium, Elsweyr, Valenwood, Alinor, Hammerfel and Cyrodiil. I realise now, that I never once returned to the province of my birth. Another oddity that I noticed..was that something inexplicable kept me away from the frosty peaks of Skyrim. In the 172 years I spent across Tamriel, I survived on only 2 trades; Blacksmithing and Enchanting. I worked on merchant's galleys, Corsair's ships, in castles, fortresses, on farms, in villages. 172 years spent honing two skills. As a lifelong student of battle, I engaged myself in training excercises to keep myself sharp and at the ready. If anything, my understanding of the many arts of war, magic and guile have intensified and become all the more formidable since I started my journey. Yet no matter what name I went by, what province I travelled, I was always known as an Arcane Blacksmith. All the while laying low, ears to the ground, learning, watching, living, observing, and I can tell you, I've built up quite the store of history and information during my travels. It is an interesting place, rife with secrets, our beloved Tamriel._

_Now, I'm sure you're not here to listen to an old Mer ramble about his life. This..summary, of my life, shall we say, brings us to my current location and situation. Let the tale begin._

* * *

Drathys Aren turned and sighed. The panorama that greeted his eyes was filled with snowy, rocky peaks. No sight of Cyrodiil's northernmost city, Bruma, from which he'd left mere days ago. No sign of anything besides ice, rocks, snow, far off mountains and a few sparse pine trees. He turned around again, back to the direction in which he'd been travelling, to, lo and behold! More snow! More rocks! More ice!

He resumed his resolute march forward; thick, fur-lined cloak wrapped tight around his frame, hood pulled low over his face, boots sinking slightly into the ground with each step. As he walked, there was no clinking of weapons or armour, sounds usually associated with travellers in this part of the world. No, the Mer walked unarmed, and unarmoured, trusting in only his instincts and luck, or divine favour. He'd passed the official border into Skyrim, and yet, had not seen a single glimpse of life besides the sparse flora of the area.

Hours passed and his steady, balanced strides took him to a great divide, a clearing where two cliffs broke to form a moderately long, narrow corridor, and he knew, deep within himself that on the other side of the corridor lay the beginning of the next segment of his travels, the 'true' entrance to Skyrim. Slightly wearied by his journey thus far, for had not stopped to rest since leaving Bruma, nearly a week earlier, he paused, and knelt down on one knee, extending his senses and listening around him. His sensitive Dunmeri ears picked up sounds beyond the corridor, very faint, voices, tinged with a northern burr. His curiosity having been spiked, he downed a stamina potion, produced from the rucksack on his shoulders, and sprinted forward through the corridor. Upon breaking into the open, he was greeted by a wall of uniformly clad Nordic men and women, all wielding one-handed axes or maces, made from iron or steel. One among the group, however, was clad differently, carried himself with more dignity, and had an authoritative look to him. He stepped forward and spoke, in an edged, yet unremarkable voice; "Hail, traveller, from where do you come with such haste? Fleeing something, perhaps?"

The Dunmer in question paused, smirked, and spoke in a light, cheerful voice, betraying nothing about his age or race. "No, no, my good Nord; I am merely a traveller eager to discover what Skyrim has to offer one such as I. In all my travels I have heard much about the majesty and beauty of the North, yet the call of adventure that guides my steps has only now seen fit to bring me here."

The nords gathered around relaxed their stances slightly, observing the hooded and cloaked being before them, trying to discern any useful information. Their leader, so he supposed, spoke once more, although without the edge to his voice; "Indeed? One such as you.." he paused and uttered a bark of derisive laughter "you'll find naught but war and politics here. I am Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, and the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion against the Thalmor and the Empire. Who are you, Traveller? From where do you hail?" he questioned, eyes narrowing slightly.

Indeed, the name 'Ulfric Stormcloak' was familiar to the Dunmer, if only vaguely. He'd heard whispers, mutterings of a rebellion being staged in Skyrim, heard of the death of the High King, Torygg. However, the many decades of his life brought to him a measure of experience and wisdom, and he gave no sign of recognition to the name. Sweeping back his hood, he revealed a shock of long, white hair, pointed ears, a noble-looking, Dunmeri face, ashen skin, and a pair of piercing, deep amber eyes. "I am called Drathys Aren" he said, a hint of a smile dancing about his face, "Arcane Blacksmith and nomad, at your service, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm". He finished with a light laugh and strode forward into the sunlight.

Ulfric blinked in surprise, for every Dunmer he'd ever met had spoken in a harsher, less friendly tone, and were generally predisposed to secrecy. "A Dunmer", he said, derision coating his voice, "truly you must love to travel, for there is very little for one of your kind here, despite the trade you claim to practice."

If Drathys took any offence to the blatant racism being thrust upon him, he made no sign of it, and walked past the assembled rebels calmly, stating; "be that as it may, the Call brought me here, and in Skyrim I shall stay, until the Call takes me elsewhere. I bid you good day, Jarl Ulfric. Good luck with that..uh.. rebellion of yours", he finished with a quip, taking off at a swift jog.

And so he jogged, straight into the waiting arms of a Legion of Imperial Soldiers.

* * *

And that's a wrap for chapter 1 guys, a sincere, and very heartfelt to those of you who read this far. I apologise for the cliff hanger, but I felt that this was as good a place as any, to end things.

Chapter 2 is in progress and will be uploaded as soon as I'm convinced that it is up to snuff.

Please, please review, and let me know what you think. Tell me if there's something I'm doing that you simply hate, or like, or love. Let me know if my characters suck, if the dialogue works, if there's anything at all noteworthy about my writing. I'm doing this to improve, and to get feedback. So, please, go on and click that lovely review button and drop me a line.

I'll do my best to respond :)!

Cheers for now, Hunter A

(p.s) I don't actually have a beta-reader, and I'm self edited, so if there are any grammar mistakes, punctuation errors, or if SOMETHING, just doesn't work, let me know, and I'll jump on it and fix it as soon as possible.


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